


Back to the Start.

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, also a super late kikasa day celebration, in commemoration of knb ending with my favourite pair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 01:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4285581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise reflects on the past year with his captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to the Start.

i.

It all began on the basketball court.

An introduction with a flourish, it was Kise’s way of letting everyone know who he was—a basketball prodigy capable of anything, a miracle.

Unfortunately, the rest of the team didn’t seem to take it well.

The captain was particularly opposed to it, made quite clear by his murderous intent.

“Shut up,” he growled. “I only asked for your name, middle school, and position played.” Before Kise could react, a kick was thrown his way. “Just diligently answer what you’re asked, you _brat!_ ”

Knocked to the floor on the first day of practice, anger began sizzling underneath Kise’s skin. “Isn’t this a bad way to treat a rookie scouted for you?”

“Like I care,” spat the third year. “You first years should _never_ talk back to a senpai’s orders.”

The anger boiled to completion, and Kise stood to full height, intentionally looking down on the one who demanded respect.

“I’m not good with stuffy things like that,” warned Kise, voice menacing. “You’re important just ‘cause you were born a year or two earlier?” He narrowed his eyes further, defiant, venomous. “Besides, I’m probably better at basketball than you.”

It was like the world was composed of only them, gazes interlocked, intense and unrelenting.

The third year didn’t falter once.

“We’re important.”

It caught Kise off guard, but the third year pushed on.

“Good or bad aside, this is Kaijou High’s basketball team,” he said, reminding Kise that he was on a different team now, with different rules. “It’s not because they were born first, it’s that they’ve been working hard and contributing that much longer than you.”

The captain’s eyes intensified. “I’m telling you to _respect_ that fact. Whether you’re the Generation of Miracles doesn’t matter. You’re a Kaijou first year now, Kise Ryouta.”

There was something about the third year that drew Kise in, a depth that made him hang onto every word.

“And I’m Kasamatsu Yukio, the captain of the team.”

On that day, albeit small, something within Kise changed.

ii.

At the sound of the buzzer, Seirin, the opposing team, erupted in loud cheers, and within Kise, erupted a new feeling—the feeling of losing.

It was frustration and anger and sadness all at once, but mostly betrayal, he concluded, as he watched his former teammate create a special style of basketball with his new light. A bond Kise always envied for himself, now a wish made hopeless.

“You idiot, stop crying,” commanded the stern voice of Kasamatsu, effectively halting his thoughts with a push from behind.

This time, rather than his usual theatrics, Kise only turned to face his captain in a state of disorientation, the melancholy welling up in his chest.

“You’ve got some balls saying that you’ve never lost before,” said Kasamatsu, eyebrow twitching in irritation. “I swear I’ll hit you for it.”

The harsh truth of his captain’s words settled in Kise’s growing self-pity, left him feeling a bit cold as he watched him turn to leave. But before he did, Kasamatsu gave him one last order: “You’d better add the word ‘revenge’ to that empty dictionary of yours!”

The words, warm and meaningful under the guise of insincerity, drove away the despondency Kise felt. Comfort bloomed in his chest as he watched the back of his captain, solid and steady, along with the hope that there were far brighter things for his future. 

iii.

“ _Oi_ , Kise!”

Caught in his attempt to escape the gym, Kise paused, and then slowly turned to make a sheepish apology. Instead, he was met with a punch to the gut that smothered any attempts at an explanation.

“Practice isn’t over yet, brat!” Kasamatsu drove his fist in further to emphasize his statement, much to the misfortune of Kise’s internal organs. “Did you think you could just leave without anyone knowing? _Idiot!_ ”

Kise gingerly grabbed Kasamatsu’s fist and moved it away from his stomach, then lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry, Kasamatsu-senpai, but I was hoping to watch Seirin’s preliminary match against Shutoku, and I didn’t think you’d let me.”

Steel eyes glinted dangerously, and Kise was almost sure he was going to die this time, but Kasamatsu only flicked his forehead. “Next time, tell me first, so I know you’re not forsaking practice for stupid reasons.”

Kise blinked, searching Kasamatsu’s face for any sign that he misheard the approval to leave, but was only met with the point guard’s usual stoic face. “Does that mean I can go…?”

Growling in irritation, Kasamatsu threw another punch to Kise’s stomach, this time harder than the last. “No, stupid, not until you finish practice.”

Kise grimaced. “But—”

Kasamatsu finally loosened his fist to rub the back of his neck, sighing in annoyance. “I can convince coach to let us go early for tactical purposes.” He gave one last glare to Kise. “But next time I see you trying to leave without permission is the last time you’ll get to play.”

As Kasamatsu jogged off in the direction of their coach, Kise was left to stand there. The corners of his lips tugged upwards into a grin, less at the fact that he could watch his teammates play, and more at the prospect that his captain had willingly invited himself to join along.

iv.

Sometimes, Kise stayed behind after practice. Not to hone his skills, but to observe the figure of his captain work tirelessly to improve his own. The way Kasamatsu kept dribbling, kept shooting, kept working, it was a dedication to the sport that had earned him his status as a nationally-acclaimed point guard, something he’d come to respect.

He watched as Kasamatsu executed his signature full drive to near perfection before shooting a three, the ball passing through the net without a hitch.

“Even the brightness of your hair is annoying,” sighed Kasamatsu before turning towards Kise.

Kise scratched his neck, sheepish. “Am I really that obvious?”

Kasamatsu picked up another ball near his foot, dribbling it easily. “By now, I’ve developed an instinctual urge to kick something every time you’re near.”

“Kasamatsu-senpai, that’s so mean!”

Smirking, Kasamatsu ceased his dribbling and tossed the ball in Kise’s direction. “So if you have that much energy left, are you going to join me, or what?”

The blonde caught it effortlessly, but the surprise from his captain’s offer still remained. “Are you sure, senpai…? I could leave if I’m being a bother."

Kasamatsu rolled his eyes. “I made myself clear, Kise, don’t make me repeat what I said.”

The familiar tug of his lips every time Kasamatsu surprised him made itself known, although this time it quickly evolved from sincere to challenging. “Alright, senpai, but I hope you realize that you’re facing a miracle.” Kise winked. “Don’t cry when you lose.”

A vein pulsed in Kasamatsu’s forehead, and he growled, “Like hell, you goddamn brat.”

Kise didn’t miss the subtle lift in the corner of his mouth.

v.

The impact of the fall was painful, but it was nothing compared to the piercing gaze of the monstrous power before him, looking down at him as if Kise’s position below him was exactly where he belonged.

Even worse was the fact that Kise’s legs had collapsed under his weight every time he attempted to lift himself up, as if confirming that his destiny was to always look up to Aomine, never able to stand at his level.

The despair of losing had returned full force, and Kise clenched his teeth, a moment away from giving up.

A hand entered his vision, stable and reliable. Looking skywards, Kise took in the sight of his captain, face solemn and understanding.

“Can you stand?” asked Kasamatsu, the low tones of his voice comforting in its simplicity. “Hang in there a little longer.”

The words triggered something within Kise, and he felt himself crack underneath the weight of his loss, but mostly at his weakness as the ace, for letting down his team, for letting down Kasamatsu and ruining his last chance at the Inter High championship.

“Senpai, I…” Kise’s voice faltered, throat closing up with his own inability to amend his mistakes, and tears pricked at his eyes because he was weak, always was from the beginning.

There was a pause as the world reduced to only the two of them; a reminder of the time when they had first met, when Kise still believed he didn’t need a team to support him, but now realized that it was the one thing he needed most.

Then, Kasamatsu knelt in front of him, was there to lift him up from his despair and share the warmth he always had in moments like these.

“You did well,” reassured Kasamatsu, leading Kise towards centre court. “Besides, it’s not all over yet.” The grip around Kise’s arm tightened and a hand rested on his head; Kasamatsu’s own silent promise that there was still hope. “You can return the favour this winter.”

And Kasamatsu stayed by his side, all the way until Kise was ready to stand on his own.

vi.

Kise had felt the throb in his ankle before he even stepped onto the court, but he refused to let it prevent him from practicing, if not even for a minute.

“Kise, stop it.”

At the stern command, Kise clenched his teeth and continued. The loss against Aomine still a fresh wound in his memory, he vowed never to feel that way again, never to let his team feel that way.

“ _Kise._ ”

The blonde shot a three from the mid-point line—only for it to miss by a good half metre.

Finally, he turned to face Kasamatsu, eyes narrowed. “Senpai, I know what I’m doing.”

“No,” challenged Kasamatsu, eyes hardening, “you don’t.”

Irritation thrummed underneath Kise's skin, and he snapped, “You can’t keep treating me like a stupid first-year, senpai.”

Immediately, Kasamatsu’s eyes flared in anger and his hands tightened into fists. “This isn’t about that.”

Kise faltered, and Kasamatsu closed his eyes, took a deep breath. When he reopened them, they were serious, softer. “This is about you hurting yourself.”

Despite his height, Kise felt vulnerable, small, under the gaze that held a depth unmatched.

“What’s the point of practicing for the Winter Cup if you’re only going to break your ankle?”

Kise deflated and averted his eyes, any fight he had left vanishing as quickly as it had come. “I don’t want to see the team lose again,” he admitted quietly, pained by the memory. “The Touou game at Inter High, it was my fault we lost. I’m really sorry about that.”

“Idiot, what are you saying?”

Startled, Kise met Kasamatsu’s eyes, firm, resolute.

“You’re our team’s ace player. Did any of them blame you even once after the game?”

They both knew the answer; this was the Kaijou High basketball team, and a team did not bring each other down.

“It’s the ace’s job to lead the team to victory, not to shoulder the responsibility when we lose,” said Kasamatsu. “That’s my job. The ace player only needs to look forward.”

In the face of his captain’s courage, Kise felt ashamed for treating him with disrespect, for being reminded of his duty as a player.

Then, Kasamatsu sighed. “Come on.” He moved towards the bleachers, and after a moment, Kise followed suit.

Once they reached the bench, on Kasamatsu’s orders, Kise sat down, removed his right shoe, and rested his leg atop its surface, bent at the knee. He waited patiently as the point guard went to the club storage room, and returned with a roll of gauze and a gel ice pack.

“This’ll help while you practice,” said Kasamatsu as he straddled the bench in front of Kise’s leg, unraveling a section of gauze to wrap around his ankle.

Kise watched, intrigued, as Kasamatsu’s calloused hands worked around his ankle, normally rough and violent, now gentle in its ministrations. Unfamiliar, but in a way that Kise found welcoming.

“Hold more power in your shooting arm,” said Kasamatsu as he cut the roll of gauze and tucked its end underneath the wrapping. “That way, you can gain more flight distance.”

When Kise didn’t respond, Kasamatsu looked up. “You’re trying to recreate the Generation of Miracles, aren’t you? That shot you just tried; it was Midorima’s high projectile three.” He rubbed the back of his neck, contemplative. “It’s going to be tough, but you can pull it off.”

“Senpai…” said Kise, a bit wondrous. “You're letting me go through with it?”

“Of course, you know what you're doing.” Kasamatsu stood, rolling his shoulders back and cracking his neck. “There’s no better way to return the favour than with something they’d never expect.”

A beam of light from the setting Sun passed through the windows of the empty gymnasium, washing the room in a golden tinge. Its warmth encircled Kasamatsu’s frame as his back stood against the invading light, outlining the firm set of his shoulders, the same ones that carried the entire weight of his team. Kise wondered then how it was possible that people admired him, a first year, when his captain was so much more.

“So?” inquired Kasamatsu, turning to face Kise. “Are we gonna practice or what?”

With a hand extended in his direction, steadfast in its support, Kise accepted it once again.

vii.

“ _Kise!_ ”

The voice of his captain rang across the court and, in an instant, every muscle in Kise’s body reacted to its tune.

He sprinted towards the net without even a glance behind him because he knew Kasamatsu would be there to send the ball towards him, just like they’ve practiced time and time again.

As expected, Kise heard the familiar whoosh of the ball flying towards his direction, and he caught it out of the air, dribbling it alongside his strides.

The supportive cheers of his teammates pushed him harder, faster, _stronger_ towards the opposing the net, the seconds on the scoreboard nearing zero.

And as he jumped, his captain’s support carried him higher, always there lift him up in times of need.

The ball passed through the net the exact moment the scoreboard buzzed—

“ _Game over!_ ”

Kaijou had won, and Kise hadn’t felt this light in ages.

His entire team fled towards Kise’s side, deafening in their cheers.

Then, Kasamatsu approached him, smile stunning in its size and rarity, and grabbed his face.

“Ouch, senpai!” protested Kise as Kasamatsu shook his head in celebration. “You’re gonna make me look like an idiot!” Kise tried to pout, but he could not quell his happy laughter long enough to do so.

Kasamatsu finally steadied him, and looked him firmly in the eyes, gaze intense yet soft with a sincerity that made Kise forget how to breathe. “Kise, you’re absolutely incredible.”

It was all Kise needed to hear.

viii.

Kise never regretted it, not for a moment.

They may have lost the semi-finals against Seirin, but his last pass of the year was for his captain, the one person he owed everything, and there’s no way he could ever regret it.

 _It’s over_ , Kise realized. Even as his leg seized up in pain, his mind could only focus on the end; the end of his basketball season, of his team, of Kasamatsu’s captaincy. _Everything is over._

A towel draped over his head, and a hand—its texture practically seared into Kise’s memory—lifted his left arm to drape over a sturdy set of shoulders, once again taking the weight for his team.

“Senpai…” trailed Kise, words failing him at the sight of the one person he didn’t want to let down.

But Kasamatsu only looked forward, only allowed himself to keep going. “If you’re holding it in that obviously,” he said, “then you’d be okay as a model, but not as an actor.”

Kise was weak, always was from the beginning. 

“I wanted to win…” he choked, unable to prevent the all-too-familiar sting in his eyes and the tears that followed afterwards.

“Yeah,” agreed Kasamatsu.

“I-I wanted to win with everyone…”

“I did too, Kise.”

ix.

The shame and the frustration and the sadness Kise felt never ceased, only amplified when Kaijou faced Shutoku in the match for third place. A team without an ace that promised to lead them to victory; it was Kise’s biggest failure in his basketball career.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Kise,” reminded Kasamatsu, taking the seat next to him for the half-time. “You still have two years left.”

“But you don’t,” Kise muttered, lacking the courage to look his captain in the eyes.

A pause, and then a quiet admission, “The only thing I regret is that I didn’t get to play with you sooner.”

Kise’s eyes widened. “Senpai… do you mean that?” He tried to meet Kasamatsu’s gaze, but it was firmly planted onto the court in front of them.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, brat.” He shoved away Kise’s bewildered face, but Kise still caught the flush that burned bright on the back of his neck.

A wide grin spread across Kise’s face, the shame and the frustration and the sadness forgotten.

x.

Kise found Kasamatsu on the basketball court, like he always did.

It was the same one where they had first met almost one year ago, the same one where they had developed a bond that went further than either of them expected.

“You shouldn’t be here, Kise.”

Kise remained silent as he watched Kasamatsu dribble and shoot, probably for the last time, before turning to face him.

The depth that came with Kasamatsu was present in the blue of his eyes. By now, Kise had learned to admire it, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to leave it behind.

“But Kasamatsu, basketball’s my specialty,” he teased.

Kasamatsu’s eyebrow twitched at the memory, but the upwards lift of his lips was unmistakable. “You were such a brat—still are, but better now.”

“You made me better,” said Kise, sincere. “Thank you, senpai—really.”

Something in Kasamatsu’s expression softened, and his eyes were a bit sad as they locked gazes. “It’s been good, Kise.”

It may have begun on the basketball court, but Kise refused to let it end there.

“Of course it has, but it’s not over,” said Kise.

It was Kasamatsu’s turn to be startled, for once.

“I’m Kise of Kaijou, and you’re Kasamatsu, the captain of the team,” he reminded.

It was like the world was composed of only them, gazes interlocked, intense and unrelenting.

Then, Kise smiled. “That’s never going to change.”

They may not have won the Inter High or the Winter Cup, but they had achieved their own special kind of victory—

One that brought them to different places, better than they were before.

And it all began on the basketball court.

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so remember in my last kikasa fic, I said my next fic probably wouldn't be kikasa? Yeah, you can probably guess how that turned out. My next few fics also involve kikasa, this should not be healthy.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! This is actually supposed to be for kikasa day, but I can't write quickly for shit, so here we go. Two days late. Nice.
> 
> Also, this was originally supposed to go in a completely different direction. It was supposed to be fluffy and cute, but then somehow, I started thinking about the end of knb and how Kise has evolved since the beginning mainly due to Kasamatsu's influence. Yeah, I got nostalgic and emotional and rewatched the earlier episodes and wrote about it according to my interpretation, and also added my own scenes, so it became a commemoration of the end of knb by showing how Kise and Kasamatsu have progressed. I always wanted to write a study on their dynamic, so it seemed fitting to do it now.
> 
> I definitely struggled more writing in Kise's perspective because he's so different from me, but I think I did okay? Any feedback? Thanks! :)


End file.
